Time Management
by Visionairy
Summary: Shortly after 5x03, Sam wants to talk, but Dean has his own struggles, and his brother can be a hard man to reach.


Time Management

by Visionairy

Shortly after 5x03, Sam wants to talk, but Dean has his own struggles, and his brother can be a hard man to reach.

(I hope this doesn't post twice, but Anonymous () kindly pointed out a glaring error I really wanted to correct. Thanks for your patience.)

* * *

Dean finished cleaning off his last blade and laid it out on the bed next to the rest of his portable arsenal when he felt his phone go off. Yes, it had reminded him a few times of a pending message, but he had had better things to do at the time. And, well, for the past three days as well.

Trying to decide if running out for a beer and a burger constituted still having better things to do, he wiped off his hands and pulled it out of his pocket. Great… the third message from Sam. Guilt temporarily overshadowed the weariness that that name invoked as he scrolled over to voicemail. As his finger hovered over the button, the phone began to vibrate anew. 'Sam' – incoming call. Well, shit.

Inevitably, he hit the button, "What, Sam?"

"Dean. Oh, I just.."

And .. well… yes …Dean's patience was short. He was hungry and Sam was going on again. Cutting to the chase, Dean interrupted, "Are you alright. … Injured, bleeding?"

"No, no .. nothing like that."

"What is it then, Sam, 'cause I'm kinda' busy here." Dean glanced over at his cleaned weapons, and felt his stomach churn.

"I was just wondering if you'd had any thoughts about…"

"No, Sam." Dean grabbed his keys, "I still think we need some time."

"But I was hoping you'd…"

"Yeah, me too, but we don't always get what we want, Sam." Thankfully, the phone began to vibrate again, and he saw 'Bobby' ringing in. "Hey, well, I gotta go - that's Bobby calling. Keep safe Sam."

"Yeah, Dean. Okay. You too."

Cutting the connection, Dean sighed, and then clicked over to his old friend, "Bobby, how're you doing?"

"That's getting to be a stupid question, boy. I'm here. How about you?"

"Good. Cleaning up after that job in Macon. We got three of the skanky-assed demons before the rest decided to move on."

"So I heard. You still in one piece?"

Bobby didn't even ask who the 'we' was anymore. It was a moot point. Dean felt better about that anyway. He liked to talk to Bobby, but didn't like the constant questioning of the agreement he and Sam had come to in splitting up. Sam was better off out of the way for now, and Dean was fine with that. He was glad that Bobby had finally just let it be.

"Me, I'm fine. I'll be better after I've eaten a Juicy Barn burger and had a few beers, but I'm good."

"Right," Bobby responded skeptically. He shifted in his seat, "Spoken with that brother of yours recently?"

Or maybe not.

That 'guy' had a name. He didn't always have to be referred to by his relationship to Dean. "Yeah. I just got off the phone with him. Same ol' story."

Bobby paused, "So what do you think of his idea?"

"Bobby, we've been over this. We'll get together again. Just not yet."

Bobby didn't say anything but his frustration came across clear. "So what did you boys talk about?"

Dean wasn't feeling the patience either. "He called at a bad time, Bobby. I'm busy here. It's not like I've had time to sit and exchange travelogs."

"Right, ... I didn't realize. Okay, so that's the way it is." Bobby's tone was leaning towards pissed, "So you're not planning on taking his messages either now?"

"Naw, Bobby. That's not it, … I've just been.."

"Busy. Yeah. I know." Bobby snorted, "Well you just may want to listen to one of them when you get the chance. But, of course, that's up to you."

The silence was thick, and while Dean decided whether he wanted to ask the older man what he was talking about, Bobby went on.

"Well, I guess I best go, too. Things to do, people to see. After all, ya' know, I'm busy." And then a minute later, "Take care of yourself, kid." And with that, he hung up.

"Damn it!" He didn't want to fight with Bobby over the way he and Sam had worked things out. They had both agreed that this is the way it should go down. And it wasn't as though Dean wasn't taking care of business for the both of them. He'd killed more demons since Sam had left then … well, then he had with his brother for a long time.

And Bobby would at least have told him if there was anything seriously wrong with Sam, so it was likely more of the same ol'. He almost convinced himself of that as he picked up his keys and headed for the door.

If only the phone hadn't taken that time to buzz again – reminding him of those three pending voicemails.

Shaking his head, he dropped down on the edge of his bed to listen. Yeah. First message, just what he expected. 'Dean, … uh … call me.' He dropped his forearms onto his knees and hit *7 to delete. Well, he was busy. Can't just drop everything and call. Not with the apocalypse and all.

Second message – next day, one in the morning, 'Dean, … hey…I hope you're okay. So, I'd really like to talk to you. … … Okay, well...' And the call ended. Of course he wanted to talk to him. Talk, talk, talk … and none of it did any good.

Sighing, Dean tried to decide if he even wanted to hear the last one. But the pause was long enough that it just rolled onto the next message. It was from earlier today - exactly when Dean had been busy demon-busting. "Uh Dean. Hey, I know you're probably busy…" Yeah, see … he knew. "… but, uh .. well, I guess I'll just tell you."

Great, … would he be able to hit 'delete' in the middle of a message? He didn't like the sound of this. And he was, after all, busy and he needed to get something to eat, and .. But the voice inevitably continued on.

"So, … Lucifer paid me a visit." Wait …what? "He, uh, … okay, well he told me that I am destined to be his vessel, that it, well, it has to be me. He made it clear that I would eventually agree to do it."

While he was still trying to digest 'Lucifer paid me a visit', Sam's hollow voice continued. "I told him no, Dean. Just thought you should know that."

Dean shook his head. Yeah, he'd had his doubts about Sam, but did Sam really think he needed to clarify that he'd said 'no' to becoming Lucifer's meat suit.

Now his words sped up just like they used to when he had bad news as a kid. It seemed that the faster he could spit it out, the faster he could be done with it. "So, anyway, based on my overall track record, when Lucifer says I'll eventually give in to him, I tend to believe him. I mean, you know, well, you should know that I have no intention of agreeing, but … I guess you know how that can go.

"So the last couple of days, I've been trying to figure out how to insure he can't get me. I mean _really_ insure he can't get me. And since he already told me that even if I kill myself, he'd just bring me right back – I've been trying to think how to prevent this."

Wait .. and again … WTF ? Dean dropped back against the bed and stared at the stains on the ceiling. Can't kill himself? What, was he talking about this like it was just another option on a hunt. Silver or lead rounds? Fight or kill yourself? This was so freakin' messed up.

"Dean. I've thought about this a lot now and the only viable option is for me to somehow get hold of Michael and see if I can be his vessel instead."

Like it couldn't get any worse.

"Dean, it makes sense. Lucifer said that he was 'burning up' his current host – which is, uh, apparently at least one of the reasons why 'it has to be me'. So, if my body has been conditioned to withstand the temperatures and the conditions that Chuck said I …well, the night I started all this … then it would make sense that I would be a better host for Michael… well, unless he doesn't .. or …unless my demon blood… well, … but I think there's a good chance it would work. Lucifer couldn't get me if Michael was already there. And then you wouldn't have to worry about …"

That was it. Dean couldn't just listen anymore. Lucifer had visited Sam. Sam – Lucifer? And as Sam continued to try to sell him on an idea that was never going to fly, Dean picked up his keys again, stuffed his weapons back in the duffle, grabbed his bags and headed for the door.

And as he hit the first number on his speed dial for his brother, Dean realized he really wasn't that busy after all.

The End

Well, I haven't posted for a while, but please let me know what you think.


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